Heresy - Story of a Guardsman
by SpittinLead308
Summary: When a Corporal of the Imperial Guard witnesses the merciless brutality that his fellow troopers deliver unto the innocent Eldar of an Exodite world during a system wide assault, what will happen when he realizes the savage xenos the Imperium told him to hate are people just like you and I?


She stared at his extended hand, unsure of what exactly he was doing. The white haired Mon'Keigh simply remained where he was, down on one knee, holding out his hand, as if he were beckoning to her. He showed no ill intent, or at least that is what she could gather from his facial expression and posture. Even though he held his rifle in his right hand, he had a loose grip on it and the only thing keeping it from outright falling to the ground was the barrel resting on the dusty floor. She looked up into his eyes, a deep emerald green and full of…compassion? She had seen that look before in fellow soldiers and friends, but never from any of the soldiers she'd faced from the Imperium. She continued to change her gaze from his still outstretched hand to his eyes, and then back again.

It was he who suddenly broke the silence, speaking in a rough, yet calm voice.

"Take my hand." His voice she could only relate mostly to her father, caring yet at the same time commanding, rough and deep, yet it flowed gently from his mouth. He was not blunt with his command, but stern enough to make it seem like one.

She easily understood his language, the Low Gothic spoken by almost all the soldiers she'd faced from the Imperium. She had learned it years ago, with the intention of someday using it to interrogate a prisoner. However, it seemed she might be the prisoner in this situation, even if this lone Mon'Keigh appeared docile. She decided to finally speak up, racking her brain to remember the words of the Mon'Keigh's language.

"W-why?" She managed to get out.

He was surprised to hear the Eldar woman before him actually understand his command, let alone actually respond in his own language. He simply smiled, his gaze further softening.

"Because you are wounded." he simply stated.

If she was not confused before, she certainly was now. Why was this Mon'Keigh, who she thought was supposed to be her enemy, offering her help? This made her suspicious. Could he be lulling her into a fake sense of security, only to capture her at the last moment and imprison her somewhere?

"Why do you care?" She asked somewhat hostile. He did not seem fazed by the accusational tone in her voice, and merely smiled in response.

"Why would I not?" He asked, with his hand still outstretched to her, patiently waiting.

"Are we not enemies?" She asked him.

"That is for you to decide." He stated. This took her by surprise. It seems he actually did care about her, and was willing to let her decide whether or not to begin hostile actions. She currently saw no immediate reason to attack, since he specifically had done nothing so far that even resembled aggressive action. She simply gazed into his eyes, her ethereal yellow irises meeting his emerald ones.

She reached out, and placed her hand into his.

Heresy

162.M41  
Ultima Segmentum  
Unmapped Subsector  
Unmapped Solar System  
Above Eldar Exodite Planet Designation Alaitoc-03

Mike's body shook and jumped in his seat as the Valkyrie gunship descended from one of the many Imperial warships in orbit around the Eldar Exodite planet he and a good portion of his regiment, the 1st Kallidian, were descending towards. Out of the viewport closest to him, he could see the curvature of the planet getting wider as the ship approached. It looked like any other garden world he'd seen, huge areas of blues with smatterings of greens, whites, and browns. He looked further than the planet taking up most of the viewport's view to see the Eldar Craftworld, Alaitoc, floating through the space between the several Exodite planets in this subsector, comprised of dark metals and glowing with massive orange domes. He could see bright flashes and small shapes around the gargantuan construct, which could only be the massive Imperial ships clashing with those of the Craftworld's defenders.

The Craftworld itself was the first to be hit in the Imperium's assault, a massive military strike against the Eldar of Alaitoc in response to their recent raids and pirate actions against humanity. The Eldar aggressors responsible had been traced back to this unmapped subsector in Segmentum Ultima, where the Craftworld, their obvious center of operations, had been discovered. A force consisting of the Imperial Navy, numerous Imperial Guard regiments, and the Sons of Orar Space Marine Chapter assaulted the Craftworld. From what he had heard from initial reports, the Sons of Orar had managed to get past the Eldar blockade and board the Craftworld, with many Imperial Guardsman in tow for support. As the main assault on the Craftworld went underway, regiments of the Imperial Guard were tasked with landing on the Exodite worlds within the subsector, which most likely had Eldar settlements and military outposts on them. Some worlds that had visible cities big enough to pose somewhat of a threat justified several regiments of Guardsmen to be deployed, but the certain Exodite planet Mike was descending upon, labeled 'Alaitoc-03', only showed minimal settlements and no large cities from orbital scans. No large military bases were found either, so the higher ups decided only a large chunk of a single Guardsman regiment was enough. Mike did not know what he and his men would find on the surface, but they would soon find out.

He jostled against his seat's safety straps again, more violently this time, most likely meaning they were getting farther into the planet's atmosphere. A crackling sound was heard in all the Guardsmen's earpieces and helmet voxs, which quickly changed into the gravelly voice of their Commissar.

"Guardsmen of the 1st Kallidian, we will soon be arriving on the surface of the planet Alaitoc-03. Our ships will be deployed in small groups to secure the small amounts of settlements across the habitable zones of the planet. For those wondering which section of the planet you will be landing on, the coordinates of each of your deployment locations have been transmitted to your ship's navigation systems. I expect all of you to be deployed and ready for battle by the time I make my way down to the surface. Commissar Uldan, out."

When the transmission terminated, Mike and the rest of the Guardsmen with him in the transport were jostled violently as the ship experienced the high winds above a large plain. As the ship descended, all the Guardsmen undid their safety straps and stood up, gathering their gear from above and below their seats. Mike unhooked his lasrifle from the equipment rack above him, checking for any damages done during the somewhat turbulent flight. Finding nothing wrong with his weapon, he loosened its strap and slung it over his shoulder. He then crouched down to pull his backpack out from under his seat. He put his hands through both loops, tightening both so the pack was snug against his back. With that, he turned to the rest of the Guardsmen in his squad, who all seemed to be doing the same routine. The sergeant of their squad, an experienced Guardsman named Allan Kreg, walked in between the preparing soldiers.

"Men, make sure your gear is functional and your weapons are loaded." The sergeant barked. The sounds of chambers cycling, las-cells humming, and belts of bullets clinking could be heard as all the men prepared their weapons. "When we hit the dirt, I want all of us to stay in a wide line. The area we're landing is a settlement that consists of several scattered buildings, assumed to be homes and farms. We are to move through each one and clear them of threats. Any questions?"

Mike hefted his lasrifle and let it rest across his arms. "Sir, what about civilians?" He asked.

Sergeant Kreg turned to Mike, giving him a look that he could not quite describe. "That depends, Corporal Chord. If any xenos react aggressively, we are to terminate them, but those that choose non hostility are to be taken prisoner. What happens to them after they are taken away is no concern of mine, but I do not see the outright killing of unarmed beings, human or not, to be justifiable." With that, Kreg turned from Mike and positioned himself at the rear of the troop compartment, waiting for the ship to land so that he may be the first out.

Mike was somewhat satisfied with Kreg's answer. He admired his sense of humility, to not kill unarmed beings, but his negligence for what occurred to them after they were imprisoned showed the most common trait held among most, if not all of soldiers in the Imperium: hatred for xenos. Mike was always confused as to why one of the Imperium's main goals was to exterminate all intelligent life that wasn't human. Was it not the Emperor's will to protect all good life? Mike would never know, as whenever he would begin to bring up the subject to his fellow Guardsmen, they would either ignore him or threaten to report him to the Commissar for speaking heresy.

He personally wished no violence or death upon the Eldar, as from what he had heard many engagements between them and the Imperium was resulted from Imperial aggression. But, he had heard of terrible stories of Eldar armies descending upon unsuspecting worlds, slaughtering all in their path. It was for that very reason the Imperium was assaulting Alaitoc and its planets, and Mike was eager to deliver justice upon the aggressors.

Now, Mike would never harm an innocent. It was part of the code of honor his father had taught him. No matter the race, no matter what you're told or ordered to do, you never, ever harm someone who has done nothing to you or your comrades. Mike surely believed in this, and continued to. He knew for sure that there would be some members of the minimal Eldar population on the planet that did not want to fight, and Mike had no intention of engaging them. As for the rest of the men in his squad, he could not say the same. They all had that murderous look in their eyes, ready to spill xeno blood in the name of the Emperor, reason or not.

Mike sighed, turning away from the other men to face the large door that dominated the rear of the transport. He felt the ship slow, and then finally stop with a slight thud. The door hissed, the airtight seals around it detaching. It opened forward, falling to the hard earth. Sergeant Kreg was the first to depart the transport, pointing his lasrifle ahead of him, sweeping back and forth. The rest of the squad, including Mike, followed, marching out the rear of the ship, weapons out. Their Valkyrie had deployed them in a wide, grassy plain, which seemed to stretch on for miles until meeting at the horizon on a blurry line of green. However, it was at the distant horizon the group of Guardsmen could just make out what appeared to be buildings. They were not big enough to be any sort of military stronghold, which meant they were most likely habs or farm structures.

"Men, we are to advance towards that settlement and secure it." Kreg ordered to the squad, pointing to the distance. The dropship rose off the ground and screamed back into the blue colored sky.

"Sir, weren't we going to ride that Valkyrie to the settlement?" asked one of the Troopers.

"That is a negative Trooper, flying in on something like a Valkyrie would immediately alert any Eldar militants in that settlement. No, we need to move on foot to stay undetected, and it will be better if we link up with the other squads of the 1st on foot too, so the Eldar do not see our forces coalescing." The curios Trooper nodded in understanding, matching the sergeant's pace as he started marching across the plain. The rest of the squad followed suit, with Mike near the rear of the group.

After about 45 minutes of walking, the squad reached several wood fences enclosing what appeared to be large penned in areas meant to enclose livestock. This confirmed Mike's suspicions about this settlement being some sort of farm, but that begged the question: if this was a farm, then where were the animals, and the farmers?

As the squad moved around the abandoned pens and coops, a veil of unease descended upon them. There was no sound besides the gentle breeze against the wooden fences and the Guardsmen's footfalls.

"Sarge, I don't like this…"

"Keep it together Trooper," barked Kreg "we need to keep our eyes peeled for any Eldar Guardian ambushes. No doubt they'll be the first to respond to us." With that, each Guardsman aimed their weapons around, pointing them at any window, doorway, and cellar door that was on the several seemingly abandoned farm structures. The squad came to what seemed to be the living quarters for whoever ran the farm. It looked like any normal human farm house, except there were noticeable differences that showed Eldar construction, such as the alien patters in the wood planks, or the strange colors the metals had on it. Several banners hung from the edge of its roof with strange Eldar runes printed on them, flowing gently in the breeze.

With the sergeant in the lead, the squad approached the entrance to the homestead. He flicked his hand to point at two Guardsmen, then pointed to the left and right sides of the house. The chosen troopers backed away from the entrance and found positions at windows at the sides of the building. With another wave of his hand, he silently ordered 4 Guardsmen to turn and guard their flanks, which would allow the remaining six men, including Mike and Kreg, to enter the house.

"Seargeant, there's curtains drawn over the windows, and no noticeable latches can be found. There's gotta be Eldar holed up in here." One of the troopers whispered over his helmet vox.

"Understood, be ready to breach the windows when I give the order." Kreg replied into his earpiece. He turned his un-helmeted head to the six behind him. "Okay, Chord, Heagon, you two stack up on me. Tryse, you initially breach the door. Granv, Joxk, you two follow us into the room after the breach. Clear?" Kreg got five nods of understanding.

He positioned himself in front of the door, lasrifle ready, while trooper Tryse readied himself next to the door to smash it in with the butt of his heavy stubber. Mike got behind the sergeant with one hand gripping his own lasrifle and the other on the older man's shoulder. Trooper Heagon did the same behind Mike, only he carried a smaller stub rifle instead of a lasrifle. Kreg looked back to Mike and Heagon, nodded once, and then turned to Tryse, who raised his heavy stubber. The sergeant held his left hand up with three fingers showing. He started counting down from three, and when only his pointer finger remained upwards, he pointed it forward. Tryse brought down the butt of his stubber, which collided with the wooden door with a mighty CRACK! The door blew inward away from its hinges, and the men rushed in.


End file.
